


Time is all we have

by Angelwingsl3 (Marie_Fanwriter)



Series: Shriyuk Time Loop [3]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, ME2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26237644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Fanwriter/pseuds/Angelwingsl3
Summary: Set in chapter nine of Same Time Last Year from Nihlus’ perspective.What started as teasing over lunch ended in tragedy.
Relationships: Nihlus Kryik/Female Shepard
Series: Shriyuk Time Loop [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905799
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	Time is all we have

**Author's Note:**

> This is an addition to Shepard and Nihlus' story, spoilers for the main event. 
> 
> Beta read by some_writer.

\---

“Are you certain that’s even edible?” Nihlus asked, looking at the questionable smelling stack of meats on Shepard’s plate. His nasal plates shifted as he tried to discern what animal it reminded him of, none came to mind.

She elbowed him playfully. “It’s bologna.” As though that made her curious meal choice make more sense. There was some sort of tangy-scented, bright yellow sauce on the sandwich too. That didn’t make it look more appetizing. If anything, it was worse. “Is what you’re eating edible?”

Across the table, one of the crewmen snickered. 

Nihlus speared his simulated  _ vret _ with a talon. Ever since Vakarian and Ms. Vas Neema left the ship, the dextro food had gone downhill. He opened his mouth, intending on making a show of widening his mandibles when the alarms engaged.

Automatically, the Spectre was on his feet. Shepard not a moment behind him-- though she was already shouting orders to the crew. Orders he wouldn’t suspect at the first klaxons at least. Instead of shouting ‘to your posts’ or ‘battle stations,’ the words out of his lover’s mouth were ‘abandon ship.’

He reached the armour lockers first, the remains of lunch lost on the ground and the grease from his meal sliding down his finger as he shoved his hand into a gauntlet. When he chanced a glance at Shepard, he met her stone mask. She knew something he didn’t. 

There was a reason they were abandoning ship.

Without thinking, he grabbed her wrist. It couldn’t end like this, not now. His heart pounded behind his keel, so loud that he swore Shepard would have been able to hear it. 

The alarm was too loud, and his distress was lost to the noise. 

Shepard’s expression softened for a moment. Her bright green eyes were damp as she rose on her toes to kiss him. And Nihlus kissed back as though it was his life that depended on it. His arms engulfed her. Damn it. He hated the armour separating them. 

When she pulled back, far too soon for his liking, she shoved her dog tags into his hand and closed his fingers around them. Nihlus’ fist clenched the metal hard enough to make his hand ache. 

Their helmets went on simultaneously, cutting them off from one another. It made running possible because it cut Nihlus off from his partner’s scent. He was a Spectre, damn it. He needed to focus. Saren taught him better than to let his emotions control the situation. He just-- he just had to follow Shepard’s lead like he’d done every day since finding out the truth. 

She went straight for the command console despite the fires burning. “Distress beacon launched!” 

A tremor rocked the ship as the  _ Normandy’s _ inertial dampers wavered, and Nihlus grabbed Shepard’s arm to steady her through it. “Will the Alliance get here in time?” His voice held a desperate edge, but he couldn’t stop it.

“The Alliance won’t abandon us,” came her non-answer. “We just need to hold on. Get everyone onto the escape shuttles.” Shepard pulled out of his reach and grabbed one of the fire extinguishers. “Joker is still trying to hold her together. I need to get him!”

“I’m not leaving you, Shepard!” 

Shepard grabbed his arm. “I need you to get the crew onto the evac shuttles. I’ll take care of Joker.”

“No!” Nihlus tore his arm out of her grasp. “We do this together.”

He knew Shepard too well. He could hear the metaphorical gears turning as she tried to figure out how to make him leave. He wouldn’t have it. Nihlus sprinted past her to the cockpit, through the literal vacuum of space. A hole had been torn straight through the ship’s bow. If he could get Moreau out, then there was no reason for her to stay.

“Time to go,” he ordered as he reached the human pilot. Without giving him time to argue, he pulled the man out of his chair and threw him over his shoulder.

“Ow, watch the arm!”

“No time,” Nihlus growled as he turned to see Shepard had followed him. No matter, they could reach the escape shuttles together. His strides were long, but it didn’t matter-- Shepard could keep up with him. 

With barely any time to spare, they made it to the shuttles. Nihlus’ heart rate was out of control as he put the pilot on the ground before shoving him in the direction of the escape pod. He was too tall to carry him through the entryway. Shepard forced both men through the door first, and Nihlus knew the moment he stumbled in that it was the wrong choice.

An explosion, more significant than the first few rocked the ship, and without the pilot at the controls, nothing softened the blow. He turned just in time to see her fist leaving the control panel.

“Shepard!” he collided with the door just as it finished slamming closed. Through the reinforced glass, he could see Shepard smash into the far wall and bounce into space. If his panicked keen wasn’t real before, it sure as hell was now as he screamed her name again. “Shepard!”

His fist collided with the glass again and again, but she only got further away until the vastness of space ate her up. He couldn’t see Shepard anymore. His shaking hand on the comm unit did nothing at first; there was only static until--

_ “-- Lay lo, Lay lo, Lay, Lay.” _

Then a sick gasp for air, a wheeze, and then nothing.

Nihlus screamed, and he could feel the blood in his gauntlets as he pounded dents into the door’s metal panel. Not five minutes ago, he’d been mocking her lunch, and now, Shepard was gone. He sunk to his knees, his hands shaking and shoulders heaving as he keened.

Closing his eyes, Nihlus leaned forward just enough to rest his crest on the door. Exhaustion warred with his good sense and his grief. He didn’t know how long he knelt there, long enough that his feet were asleep, and his voice ached from sobbing. She was just-- gone.

When Nihlus could no longer hold his fists, his hands loosened. A metallic clanging noise broke his attention. He turned his quivering fingers around and remembered that Shepard had given him her tags. As he closed his fingers around the chain and pulled it up to eye-level, he realized she knew.

She knew this is how it ended. 

Nihlus’ mandibles pinched so hard against his maxilla that it physically hurt. She knew. He balled his free hand into a fist again and punched the wall hard enough that he wasn’t sure if he could actually hear the bones break, or if it was all in his head. Regardless, he wound up again. This time, a voice stopped him. 

“You’re going to break it if you haven’t already.”

Snarling, Nihlus spun to face the human man. All of his anger suddenly had a place to go. “You!” his voice was full of menace, but when he locked onto the pilot, the fury stopped in its tracks as fast as a krogan charging into a steel wall.

The man slumped in his seat; the straps barely held him up. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he held one arm close to his chest, wrapped in a sling. An open med-kit sat on the cushion beside him. His hat was gone too, lost in the vacuum maybe. There was nothing there to fight, as much as Nihlus wanted an outlet for his anger.

“Yeah,” Moreau said. “Just me. Fuck.” He rubbed his face with his hand. “Fuck, why did she do that?” he asked the wind. 

Nihlus had no answer for him. He looked down at the dog tags,  _ she knew. _

As fast as the anger came, Nihlus deflated. He leaned his back against the door, and gingerly removed his helmet with his free hand. Damn it, that hurt. The physical pain almost let him forget for a moment where he was as he saw stars behind his eyes. “Ahh.”

“Come here,” the pilot said. “I’ve got the first aid kit.”

It was only practical to deal with the break now he reasoned as he stood up and made his way across the tiny escape pod. He could barely stand up straight; the ceiling was so low. He sat down, and when Moreau reached out his uninjured hand, Nihlus gave him his broken one in return. 

They didn’t speak as the pilot carefully cleaned the blood away from Nihlus’ bloodied knuckles and then applied medigel. It stung, and he flinched. But soon, the anesthetizing agents worked their way into the injury and took away the worst of the ache. The bones would still take time to knit, but they would heal. 

Once Moreau finished bandaging his hand, he busied himself cleaning up the kit while Nihlus stared off into the middle distance. Time was funny. He didn’t know how long it had been since the  _ Normandy _ went up in flames, and he felt numb.

He raised his hand to his face to touch the last place she kissed him. His fingers came away with a tiny smudge of bright yellow. It was mustard. Nihlus could have laughed but it hurt too much. So instead, he said: “She knew.” out loud. If only for something to fill the silence.

“What?”

Nihlus raised the tags to show him. One of them had bent in his gauntlet, and his blue blood marred them, but from the N7 sigil, he would know they were Shepard’s. “She knew. The second the alarms went off, she called for evac.”

“How could she have known?” Moreau asked. His eyes locked to the slivers of metal, but he didn’t reach out for them. “Hell, I don’t even know what they were. This huge ship appeared out of nowhere. It wasn’t a Reaper or anything else I’ve ever seen.”

“It had happened before,” Nihlus told him before scoffing. “You’re not going to believe me. I almost didn’t believe her. It just-- it doesn’t matter. She’s gone.”

“Try me.”

The Spectre looked up to find Moreau staring at him. There was a set to his jaw that spoke of determination, beyond the apparent exhaustion and pain. Nihlus knew he broke the pilot’s arm and that his bones were weak. Hell, he’d probably broken some ribs too, throwing him over his shoulder like that. “What?”

“I said, try me,” he repeated. “I believed Shepard about an ancient alien race coming to destroy all sentient life and stole a damn frigate for her. She just sacrificed herself for me. Tell me.”

Nihlus’ mandibles slackened for the first time since the alarms first sounded. “I suppose we have the time.”

\---


End file.
